Simon Denman

Simon Denman

About

Born in Eastbourne, to retired parents, Simon Denman grew up alternately on the beaches of a succession of English seaside towns, and in the historic, if somewhat austere boarding school of Christ's Hospital in Horsham, Sussex.

After graduating from the University of Essex with a degree in Electronic Engineering, he has spent longer than he likes to admit in the IT networking, communications, and Internet security industries, gradually moving from technical to marketing and management roles. During this time, he moved from the UK to Paris, back to the UK, over to Munich, across to the French Riviera, and finally back to England.

Far more importantly during this period, he was blessed with two beautiful and talented daughters, now at University themselves, and, in remarriage, the love of the most wonderful woman for whom a man could wish.

Following the publication and unexpected success of his first novel,"Connected" and, in the same year, the births of twins, he has recently moved to Cornwall with his wife and babies, where he is now working on a new novel.

While he no longer plays rugby, Simon is a moderately accomplished player of Jazz and classical trumpet, which he blows enthusiastically with any band or group that'll have him. Any remaining time is spent reading and writing.

The Race for Flugal Farm

The Race for Flugal Farm

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Description

<p>The Race for Flugal Farm is the first book in a trilogy that charters the lives and adventures of the inhabitants of the Riding Stables at Flugal Farm.</p><div>Times had been hard for George Flugal and his wife, and this inevitably resulted in him having to sell the majority of the school's horses until he was left its just four: Pogo, Biff, Troy and an ex-racehorse called Chance.</div><div>The horses who along with a young stable hand Rachelle Perkins, a dog named Nugget, a pig called Nigel and an old family friend Uncle Dave, make up the Flugal's extended family.</div><div>When they find themselves facing the possibility of having the farm repossessed by the bank, and bought out by the odious Mr Williams, have to pull together to enter a carriage drive in order to win the prize money and save their way of life.</div>

Story Behind The Book

Years ago, at university, a fellow student had a breakdown and was admitted to the local psychiatric hospital. A few, who knew him well, went to visit and reported that he’d subsequently lost the plot and was now gabbling incomprehensibly of having found the answer to life, the universe and everything. Apparently it was all to do with concentric circles, which he proceeded to draw on every available surface including himself. While most people seemed consumed with sadness and pity at this, my first thought was, “What if he really had discovered some universal truth?” Although I never seriously believed that he had, it was on that day that the seed of an idea lodged in my young brain – a seed that in the summer of 2002 would germinate into the drafting of the first three chapters of CONNECTED from a cabin in the French Alps. I then returned to the reality of a career in IT marketing and the novel was relegated to the back-burner, where it sat simmering for another seven years. Finally, in the late summer of 2009, finding myself with an opportunity to take some time out, I picked up where I’d left off and in the following year, added those two long awaited words: THE END. Over the next two years during weekends and holidays (for I’d since returned to gainful employment), I tweaked, cut, modified and generally tried to polish the above work into a novel worthy of publication. The result is CONNECTED. I still sometimes wonder what became of that chap with his concentric circular obsession. With luck, and perhaps medication, he will have returned to life none the worse for his temporary descent into insanity. Maybe he went on to finish his studies and go on to great things. Or perhaps, tragically, he was never able to shake the euphoric delusion of finally understanding the true nature of reality. And maybe, just maybe, it was not a delusion at all.

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